Sent from Heaven
by quack675
Summary: Chase questions why Baby Michael had to die, remembers his grandmother fondly, and finds a new friend.


**AN: This is a short piece I wrote in honor of someone very special. **

**Dedicated to VRM.**

**Post episode _Forever_. Prequel, of sorts, to _Silenced_. Extremely light and fluffy by comparison!**

It was raining as Chase made his way home from work. He told himself that the angels were crying. Or maybe it was just him. Taking a "vacation" in NICU had been a bad idea. House was annoyed; and, worse than that, he was curious. Chase thought getting paid twice as much as he normally did to work in his specialty area would make things easier. He was not the rich person that others believed. Being cut out of his father's will had been a shock, but it was not a blow to his lifestyle. He had been too stubborn to live off his father's money anyway and too smart to squander all of his mother's. He lived within his means, but he had learned from his grandmother that a wise man "prepared for a rainy day." He almost laughed at the irony of the cliché. Next year, he vowed he would get out of his rut and take a real vacation.

He was driving more slowly than usual and he had the radio off, which was also a change. Normally, listening to music on the way home from work relaxed him. Today, it set him edge. Additionally, he could not bear the chatter of the disk jockeys. The discussion of the accident on Cloverleaf was not welcome amid his thoughts of Baby Michael.

He had seen death many times before, but that did not lessen the sting when someone so innocent never got a fighting chance. Chase was sad about the baby's death, but just as disheartened about the baby's life. His mother Kara, the recovering alcoholic, did not really want Michael. But she loved him. But she hurt him. It hurt her that she hurt him. Really, she did not know what she was doing. How could anyone blame her?

It could have just as easily been Baby Robert.

It was one of those moments where he questioned God's plans. Why did the innocent child die? Conversely, why had _he_ lived? Was it the grace of God that had kept his mother from holding a pillow over his face? Was it a matter of timing since she started drinking excessively when her child was older? If her binging had begun when he was too tiny to understand controlling himself meant controlling her to some small extent, would she have snapped? Was he just lucky that his mother did not have another disease in addition to her alcoholism? Why had God chosen to bless him with life and allowed Michael's to be taken?

Or was it Michael who had been blessed?

Chase believed without any doubt that the soul of the child was tucked safely in the Lord's hands. He might question his own faith, but he did not question the existence of God. He did not question the loving arms that would accept the child into an eternal home. The innocent belonged with God. 

Yes, in some ways, it was Michael who had been blessed. He would never have a chance to consciously make the choice to sin. He would never falter in his own humanity. He would never strive to be better for his mother, his father, his teachers, his pastor, his Lord. Michael would never fail. He would never disappoint.

But Michael would never succeed. He would never know the feeling of making someone proud. He would never know love.

The comparisons Chase drew between himself and the child were not rooted in self-pity. They came from self-evaluation. 

Chase rubbed his hand over his face realizing it had been too long since he had known those brighter aspects of life. The last person whom he was sure he had made proud was the Grandmother who warned him about rainy days.

She was also the one who taught him compassion. Valerie Whalan was the strongest person Chase had ever known and he loved her with the blind adoration that a boy was supposed to have for his father. Children were not nearly as oblivious as some adults believed. Chase had caught on early that when his parents told him that Valerie wanted to spend time with her grandson, it meant that Mum and Dad had other more important things to do. Valerie thought nothing was more important than her "little mouse."

Of course she would have called him by the nickname of some kind of animal. She had a kind heart that could not bear to see any creature suffer. She took pity on every stray that wandered through her farmland, unable to let anything go hungry. His experiences with her had been such a contrast to his experiences with his parents. She was outside the city with no desire to go into it. They despised the rural area with it's lack of _sophistication_. Chase had been seven when he finally found out exactly what _sophistication_ was.

Chase smiled as he thought of the days he spent following Valerie through a small garden. There were a lot of gaps in his childhood memories, but there were a few clear recollections that brought him joy. He remembered that day because he had a tiny black puppy that he carried constantly. He could not remember what he had named the puppy, but he recalled holding it close to his heart as he padded after Valerie as she planted something.

Valerie's father had bought the tract of land many years prior. When she had married a wealthy man by the name of Richard Whalan, the actual farming had nearly ceased. Valerie did just enough to keep herself occupied. Richard did not want any wife of his to hold a job outside of the home, but she had too much energy to only take care of her one daughter.

Chase regretted that his mother had sold the land after Valerie died. Sure, the sales had contributed greatly to his own inheritance, but he wished that he could go back there sometime. Odds were his grandparent's home had been demolished and the land itself had been developed into a suburban neighborhood by now. He wondered what had happened to all of Valerie's pets when she had died.

He had asked his mother if they could keep the white cat that slept on his grandmother's bed, but she had assured him that all of the animals had moved to loving homes where they could still play in the fresh air.

It had been a lie. Only, at nine, he did not know it. Pets simply were not allowed in his parent's home. They were considered filthy creatures who would claw the furniture and leave hair all over the floor. In his loneliness, he often wished for a dog or cat that would curl up next to him as he laid awake listening to his parents yell at one another. He shook away his rambling thoughts of his childhood as he neared his home.

The rain had become only mist by the time he parked his Explorer. As he turned off the engine, a flash of color caught his attention. Something small had just run underneath the next car.

Inquisitive, he left his messenger bag on the passenger seat and got out of the SUV. He kneeled on the wet pavement, rain soaking his knee, and peered under the silver Nissan. He became worried as he saw a tiny, soaking wet kitten. He was certain that the cold, wet weather would be more than such a tiny, lone animal could survive. And if the weather did not kill her, a car would.

"Here kitty," he called. He moved closer to the car and got on both knees in the empty space between his truck and the car. "Come here," he urged, reaching his hand out, hoping the kitten would come forward, sniff it, and decide he was trustworthy.

It remained crouched beside a tire and mewed pitifully. Chase could see it was shivering.

"Come here, kitty," he coaxed. He felt his hair flattening against his head as the drizzle continued. A chill ran over him. Even in his jacket, the cool air was getting to him.

Damn it, he thought. He could not just leave the kitten to meet an untimely death. He had already lost one baby today. 

"Are you hungry?" he asked in a soft voice. "Don't run away," he told it. "I'll be right back."

Don't let it run away, he plead in his mind, without realizing he was praying. He rushed up to his apartment, took a can of tuna out of his cupboard, opened and drained it, shoved a clean dishtowel into his jacket pocket, then rushed back toward the parking lot. 

His landlord's wife tried to engage him in a conversation on his way out, but he waved and said, "Sorry, Mrs. Giordano! No time!" as he rushed by. She would think nothing of it. She had seen him rush out the door on his way to answer an emergency call from the hospital at least a dozen times. He was sure he heard her ask someone, "Do you smell tuna?" as he opened the door.

He ran back to the Nissan and kneeled down, hoping that the kitten was still there.

Relief washed over him when he saw the tiny creature, staring up at him with bright blue eyes. "Come here, kitty cat," he said, setting the tuna down on the cement.

The kitten sniffed the air, then sped to the can of food, obviously too hungry to care about any threat the crazy, wet bloke might present.

Chase watched the kitten eat ravenously for about thirty seconds. It was soaked to the bone, a dark reddish-brown color with white fur on its underbelly, paws, and part of its face.

In one quick motion, he took a firm grasp on the back of the kitten's neck. He knew that would paralyze it so that if it was scared and defensive, it could not maim him too badly with its tiny little claws. With his free hand, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the dishtowel, then swaddled the kitten. That served the dual purpose of helping it to dry off and, again, protecting himself from the claws should it get scared. He unzipped his jacket far enough to allow him to press the tiny bundle against his chest before zipping it up again. He picked up the can of tuna, but decided to toss it into to trash can outside the doorway to the lobby of his building. He was not sure what the animal policy of the complex was since he had never even considered getting a pet, so he did not want to raise suspicion by walking through the lobby with an open can of tuna and a lump in his jacket. "Don't worry, little girl, I've got more upstairs," he assured the kitten. He promised himself he would give the cat away if he had no choice, but he was not going to risk not being able to get it inside and making sure it was warm, dry, and fed.

Luck was shining on him since Mrs. Giordano had gone back into the business office. He took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. When he got to his apartment, he kicked off his wet shoes, leaving them by the coat wrack where he hung his jacket. He took the dishtowel bundle over to his kitchen sink. He smiled, realizing the kitten was actually purring.

"So, what do we have here?" he asked it, holding it up to examine it. "Aren't you a pretty little gir--fellow?" He changed his mind when he saw the kitten's white underside and that it was clearly a male. He was pleased to see that it did not have fleas. Obviously, it was too early in the year and still too cold for the pests to prosper. He doubted the cat weighed more than 600 grams.

He put the kitten into the basin of the sink while he opened another can of tuna. Smelling the fish, the kitten tried to climb out of the sink, but kept sliding back, unable to get a foothold on the stainless steel. Chase spooned a small amount of the fish onto a saucer and then set both the saucer and the kitten on the floor. "Let's get one thing straight," he said. "You will not eat on my kitchen countertop." He ran some water into a bowl and set it on the floor next to the saucer, thinking nothing of letting the cat eat out of same dishes he used.

The kitten greedily consumed every morsel, then started rubbing himself against Chase's ankle, looking up at him for more.

"That's enough, kitty cat" Chase told him. "Any more than that and you'll get a tummy ache." That's when it occurred to Chase that he did not have a litter box. Or litter. Or proper cat food. "I think we're going to have to go shopping," he said. "First thing's first. You've got to have a good bath." He scooped up the kitten and took it with him to his bathroom to retrieve a few full sized towels, then returned to the kitchen. He turned on the faucets and let the water run until it was a temperature that he believed would not be too hot nor too cold for the tiny animal.

He put the cat back into the sink. Chase could already tell that the kitten did not care for the sink at all. It mewed and tried to crawl out while Chase drizzled some dish soap onto its back, "Sorry," he said. "I should have gotten some of my shampoo, I guess." Once more, he gripped the nape of the kitten's neck with one hand while he lathered the soap with his fingers. The scrawny kitten seemed soothed by the circular motions. The bath was over very quickly since Chase did not want the kitten to stay wet for long. "Is that better?" he asked, as he patted it as dry as he could, realizing it was going to be a deep orange when it was dry. Then he wrapped it in another towel. He carried his bundle to his sofa and sat down, cradling it against his chest. He could not help but smile as he listened to it purr. He reached onto the coffee table to get his cordless telephone, flipped the lever on that side of the sofa to make it recline, then dialed the business office.

"Mrs. Giordano, this is Dr. Chase. How are you?" he asked warmly. He listened as she told him about her aching feet. "I could refer you to a podiatrist," he offered, then listened to her complain because he was the only person who took her seriously. "I'm sorry that Mr. Giordano won't listen to you," he said, peering into the blue eyes that were watching him intensely. Only his head was visible in the cocoon of the towel. He stroked the soft patch of fur between the tiny ears. "Listen, Mrs. Giordano, what's the policy on pets?"

When she told him that he could have a cat as long as it was declawed and neutered, Chase's heart felt lighter than it had in years. He hung up the phone and smiled, "Looks like you're stuck with me, kitty cat." He unwrapped it from the towel, finding that it was almost completely dry. The kitten curled up right over his heart and purred loudly. The rumbling sounded like beautiful music to his ears. "Thanks," Chase said, looking upward, sure that both God and the spirit of Valerie Whalan were watching him. And, just maybe, they were joined by the spirit of a tiny baby named Michael.


End file.
